JOHN  HENRY  NASH 


<\REL>  M.  DEWlTT 

BOOKSKI.I.ER 

fUtO  FOUUTEEN'TH   ST. 

DAKL.ANX>.  CA 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


^  I     ,        A-/  "PL     )/1,  fix 


WESTERN  CLASSICS 
NSONE 


u 

01 

THE 

SEA 

FOGS 

1 

U 

n 

nr 


THESEAFOGSJ 


A  sheeted  speftre   white  and  tall, 
The  cold  mist  climbs  the  castle  wall 
And  lays  its  hand  upon  thy  cheek. 

LONGFELLOW. 


Albcrtine  5 


2 


THE  SEA  FOGS 


PI  '  Id 


By 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson 

with  an  Introdu6lion  by 

Thomas  Rutherford  Bacon 

The  Photogravure 

Frontispiece  after  a  Painting 

by 

Albertine  Randall  Wheelan 


Paul  Elder  and  Company 
San  Francisco  and  New  York 


Copyright,  1907 
PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 


PI  ID 

[1|  INTRODUCTION  ffl 


PI  ID 


'Robert  Louis  Stevenson  first  came 
to  California  in  l8jq  for  the 
purpose  of  getting  married.  The 
things  that  delayed  his  marriage 
are  sufficiently  set  forth  in  his 
"Letters"  (edited  by  Sidney  Col- 
vm)  and  in  his  "Life"  (written 
by  Graham  Ealfour).  It  is  here 
necessary  to  refer  only  to  the  last 
of  the  obstacles,  the  breaking  down 
of  his  health.  It  is  in  connexion 
with  the  evil  thing  that  came  to 
him  at  this  time  that  he  jirst 
makes  mention  of  "the  sea  fogs" 
that  beset  a  large  part  of  the 
California  coast.  He  speaks  of 
ni  in 


PI  =na 

INTRODUCTION^ 


them  as  poisonous ;  and  poisonous 
they  are  to  any  one  who  is  affliSled 
with  pulmonary  weakness,  but 
bracing  and  glorious  to  others. 
They  give  the  charm  of  climate  to 
dwellers  around  the  great  bay. 
How  he  took  this  jirst  very  serious 
attack  of  the  terrible  malady  is 
indicated  in  the  letter  to  ILdmund 
Gosse,  dated  April  16,  1880. 
His  attitude  toward  death  is 
shown  here,  and  is  further  shown 
in  his  little  paper  ^Es  Triplex,  in 
which  he  successfully  vindicates 
his  generation  from  the  charge 
of  cowardice  in  the  face  of  death. 
Eh  ID 


PI  ==3D 

[||  INTRODUCTION^ 

ni  in 


Stevenson's  two  distinguishing 
characteristics  were  his  courage 
and  his  determination  to  be  happy 
as  the  right  way  of  making  other 
people  happy.  His  courage ',  far 
more  than  change  of  scene  and 
climate,  gave  him  fourteen  more 
years  in  which  to  contribute  to 
the  sweetness  and  light  of  the 
world.  These  years  were  made 
fruitful  to  others  by  his  determined 
happiness  y  a  happiness  in  which 
the  main  fa£tory  outside  of  his 
own  determination ,  came  from  the 
companionship  which  his  marriage 
brought  to  him.  The  great  prin- 
n»  in 


PI  ZZZ3D 

fll  INTRODUCTION  |[] 

Pi  iD 


ciples  by  which  he  lived  influenced 
those  who  did  not  know  him  per- 
sonally, through  his  gift  of  writ- 
ing. He  always  maintained  that 
it  was  not  a  gift  but  an  achieve- 
ment, and  that  any  one  could  write 
as  well  as  he  by  taking  as  much 
pains.  We  may  well  doubt  the 
soundness  of  this  theory,  but  we 
cannot  doubt  the  spiritual  attitude 
from  which  it  came.  It  came 
from  no  mock  humility,  but  from 
a  feeling  that  nothing  was  credita- 
ble to  him  except  what  he  did. 
He  asked  no  credit  for  the  talents 
committed  to  his  charge.  He  asked 
CM 

iv 


ni  no 

[1|  INTRODUCTION^ 


PI  iD 


credit  only  for  the  use  be  made 
of  the  talents. 

Stevenson  was  married  May  ig, 
1880.  His  health,  which  had 
delayed  the  marriage,  determined 
the  character  of  the  honeymoon. 
He  must  get  away  from  the  coast 
and  its  fogs.  His  honeymoon  ex- 
periences are  recorded  in  one  of 
the  most  delightful  of  his  minor 
writings y  "T&e  Silverado  Squat- 
ters." He  went,  with  his  wife9 
bis  stepson  and  a  dog,  to  squat 
on  the  eastern  shoulder  of  Mount 
Saint  Helena,  a  noble  mountain 
which  closes  and  dominates  the 

PI  ID 


ai  in 

HI  INTRODUCTION  |[| 


m  »n 


Napa  Valley,  a  wonderful  and 
fertile  valley,  running  northward 
from  the  bay  of  San  Francisco. 
Silverado  was  a  deserted  mining- 
camp.  Stevenson  has  intimated 
that  there  are  more  ruined  cities 
in  California  than  in  the  land  of 
Eashan,  and  in  one  of  these  he 
took  up  his  residence  for  about 
two  months,  "camping"  in  the 
deserted  quarters  of  the  extinEi 
mining  company.  Had  he  gone  a 
little  beyond  the  toll-house,  just 
over  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain, 
he  would  probably  never  have  seen 
the  glory  of  "the  sea  fogs"  It 
Pi  ID 


PI  Id 

fll  INTRODUCTION^ 


PI  in 

would  have  been  better  for  his 
health  but  worse  for  English 
literature. 

My  first  knowledge  of  that  glory 
came  to  me  twenty  years  ago.  I 
had  come  to  California  to  care  for 
one  dearly  beloved  by  me,  who  was 
fighting  the  same  fight  that  Ste- 
venson fought,  and  against  the 
same  enemy,  and  who  was  fighting 
it  just  as  bravely.  I  took  him  to 
the  summit  of  the  Santa  Cruz 
Mountains  in  the  hope  that  we 
might  escape  the  fogs.  As  I 
watched  on  the  porch  of  the  little 
cottage  where  he  lay,  I  saw  night 

PI  ID 

vii 


ni  in 

INTRODUCTION^ 


PI  ID 


after  night  what  I  believe  to  be 
the  most  beautiful  of  all  natural 
phenomena,  the  sea  fog  of  the 
Pacific,  seen  from  above.  Under 
the  full  moon,  or  under  the  early 
sun  which  slowly  withers  it  away, 
the  great  silver  sea  with  its  dark 
islands  of  redwood  seemed  to  me 
the  most  wonderful  of  things. 
With  my  wonder  and  delight, 
perhaps  making  them  more  poig- 
nant, was  the  fear  lest  the  glory 
should  mount  too  high,  and  lay  its 
attractive  hand  on  my  beloved. 
The  fog  has  been  dear  to  me  ever 
since.  I  have  often  grumbled  at 
PI  in 

viii 


m  in 

[||  INTRODUCTION^ 


u 


//  'when  I  was  in  it  or  under  it, 
but  when  I  have  seen  it  from 
above,  that  first  thrill  of  won- 
der and  delight  has  come  back 
to  me  —  always.  Whether  on  the 
Berkeley  hills  I  see  its  irresistible 
columns  moving  through  the  Gol- 
den Gate  across  the  bay  to  take 
possession  of  the  land,  or  whether 
I  stand  on  the  height  of  Tamal- 
pais  and  look  at  the  white  y  tangled 
flood  below  ,  — 

"  My  be  art  leaps  up  when  I  behold" 

It  remains  to  me  — 

"  A  vision,  a  delight  and  a  desire  " 


x 


n»  in 

H|  INTRODUCTION^ 


PI  ID 


When  the  beauty  of  the  fog  first 
got  hold  of  me,  I  wondered  whether 
any  one  had  given  literary  expres- 
sion to  its  supreme  charm.  I 
searched  the  works  of  some  of 
the  better-known  California  poets 9 
not  quite  without  result.  I  was 
familiar  with  what  seem  to  me 
the  best  of  the  serious  verses  of 
BretHarte,  the  lines  on  San  Fran- 
cisco, —  wherein  the  city  is  pic- 
tured as  a  penitent  Magdalen, 
cowled  in  the  grey  of  the  Fran- 
ciscans,—  the  soft  pale  grey  of 
the  sea  fog.  The  literary  value 
of  the  figure  is  hardly  injured  by 
ni  in 


n»  »n 

[II  INTRODUCTION  |[] 


Dl  ID 


that  the  penitence 
of  this  particular  Magdalen  has 
never  been  of  an  enduring  quality. 
It  is  to  be  noted  that  what  Harte 
speaks  of  is  not  the  beauty  of  the 
fog9  but  its  sobriety  and  dignity. 
Sill,  with  his  susceptibility  to  the 
infinite  variety  of  nature  and  with 
the  spark  of  the  divine  fire  which 
burned  in  him,  refers  often  to 
some  of  the  effects  of  the  fog, 
such  as  the  wonderful  sunset 
colors  on  the  Berkeley  hills  in 
summer.  But  I  find  only  one 
dire 51  allusion  to  the  beauty  of  the 
fog  itself:— 

PI  HZ3D 

zi 


n\  ID 

Hi  INTRODUCTION^ 

U\  Z3D 


*"Tbere  lies  a  little  city  in  the  bills ; 

White  are  its  roofs,  dim  is  each  dwelling  s 

door. 
And  peace  with  perfeft  rest  its  bosom  Jills. 

"There  the  pure  mist,  the  pity  of  the  sea, 
Comes  as  a  white,  soft  hand,  and  reaches 

o'er 
And  touches  its  still  face  most  tenderly." 

In  1887  I  had  not  read  "  The 
Silverado  Squatters"  Part  of  it 
had  been  published  in  Scribner's 
Magazine.  //  was  only  in  the 
following  year  that  I  got  hold  of 


*Tbis  exquisite  little  poem  is  unaccountably  omitted  from 
the  Household  (and  persumably  complete)  Edition  of 
Stirs  poems  issued  by  Hough  ton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  igo6. 
It  is  found  in  the  little  volume,  "  Poems,' *  by  Edward 
Rowland  Sill,  published  by  the  same  firm  at  an  earlier 
date.  Mountain  View  Cemetery  is  no  longer  a  '  *  little  city.  *  * 

PI  ID 

xii 


m  in 

[]|  INTRODUCTION 


the  book  and  found  an  almost  ade- 
quate expression  of  my  own  feel- 
ing about  the  sea  fogs.  Stevenson 
did  not  know  all  their  beauty,  for 
he  was  not  here  long  enough,  but 
he  could  tell  what  he  saw.  In 
other  words,  he  had  a  gift  which 
is  denied  to  most  of  us. 
Silverado  is  now  a  quite  impossi- 
ble place  for  squatting.  When  I 
first  tried  to  enter,  I  found  it  so 
given  over  to  poison-oak  and  rat- 
tlesnakes that  I  did  not  care  to 
pursue  my  investigations  very  far. 
I  did  not  know  at  that  time  that 
I  was  quite  immune  from  the  poi- 

Di  ZIZID 

ziii 


n»  in 

H|  INTRODUCTION^ 


son  of  the  oak  and  that  the  Cali- 
fornia rattlesnake  was  quite  so 
friendly  and  harmless  an  animal 
as  yohn  Muir  has  since  assured 
us  that  be  is.  The  last  time  that 
I  passed  Silverado 9  it  was  acces- 
sible only  by  the  aid  of  a  gang  of 
wood-choppers. 

Curiously,  the  last  great  fog  effect 
that  I  have  seen  was  almost  the 
same  which  Stevenson  has  de- 
scribed. Last  summer  we  had 
been  staying  for  a  month  with  our 
friends  who  have  a  summer  home 
about  three  miles  beyond  Steven- 
son's "toll-house"  It  is,  I  believe, 

zzi 

xiv 


n 


INTRODUCTION 


//20J-/  beautiful  country-seat  on 
this  round  earth,  and  its  free  and 
gentle  hospitality  cannot  be  sur- 
passed. We  left  this  delightful 
place  of  sojourning  between  three 
and  four  o  clock  in  the  morning  to 
catch  the  early  train  from  Calis- 
toga.  Our  steep  climb  up  to  the 
toll-house  was  under  the  broad 
smile  of  the  moon,  which  gradually 
gave  way  to  the  brilliant  dawn. 
When  we  passed  the  toll-house, 
the  whole  Napa  Valley  should 
have  been  revealed  to  us,  but  it 
was  not.  The  fog  had  surged 
through  it  and  had  hidden  it. 


xv 


ai  ID 

[1|  INTRODUCTION^ 

m  in 


What  we  saw  was  better  than 
the  beautiful  Napa  Valley.  I 
should  like  to  tell  what  we  saw, 
but  I  cannot 9 — "For  what  can 
the  man  do  who  cometh  after  the 
king?" 


xvi 


D 

THE 

SEA 

FOGS 

II 

in 

HI  THE  SEA  FOGS 

D' 


A  change  in  the  colour  of  the 
light  usually  called  me  in  the 
morning.  By  a  certain  hour, 
the  long,  vertical  chinks  in 
our  western  gable,  where  the 
boards  had  shrunk  and  sepa- 
rated, flashed  suddenly  into  my 
eyes  as  stripes  of  dazzling  blue, 
at  once  so  dark  and  splendid 
that  I  used  to  marvel  how  the 
qualities  could  be  combined. 
At  an  earlier  hour,  the  heavens 
in  that  quarter  were  still  quietly 
coloured,  but  the  shoulder  of 
the  mountain  which  shuts  in 
the  canyon  already  glowed  with 


ft  THE  SEA  FOGS  |5 

m  in 


sunlight  in  a  wonderful  com- 
pound of  gold  and  rose  and 
green ;  and  this  too  would  kin- 
dle, although  more  mildly  and 
with  rainbow  tints,  the  fissures 
of  our  crazy  gable.  If  I  were 
sleeping  heavily,  it  was  the  bold 
blue  that  struck  me  awake;  if 
more  lightly,  then  I  would 
come  to  myself  in  that  earlier 
and  fairier  light. 
One  Sunday  morning,  about 
five,  the  first  brightness  called 
me.  I  rose  and  turned  to  the 
east,  not  for  my  devotions,  but 
for  air.  The  night  had  been 


°  THE  SEA  FOGS  " 


PI  ID 


very  still.  The  little  private 
gale  that  blew  every  evening 
in  our  canyon,  for  ten  minutes 
or  perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
had  swiftly  blown  itself  out; 
in  the  hours  that  followed,  not 
a  sigh  of  wind  had  shaken  the 
treetops;  and  our  barrack,  for 
all  its  breaches,  was  less  fresh 
that  morning  than  of  wont.  But 
I  had  no  sooner  reached  the 
window  than  I  forgot  all  else 
in  the  sight  that  met  my  eyes, 
and  I  made  but  two  bounds 
into  my  clothes,  and  down  the 
crazy  plank  to  the  platform. 


m 


"THE  SEA  FOGS  iff 


PI  ID 


The  sun  was  still  concealed 
below  the  opposite  hilltops, 
though  it  was  shining  already, 
not  twenty  feet  above  my 
head,  on  our  own  mountain 
slope.  But  the  scene,  beyond  a 
few  near  features,  was  entirely 
changed.  Napa  Valley  was 
gone;  gone  were  all  the  lower 
slopes  and  woody  foothills  of 
the  range;  and  in  their  place, 
not  a  thousand  feet  below  me, 
rolled  a  great  level  ocean.  It 
was  as  though  I  had  gone  to 
bed  the  night  before,  safe  in  a 
nook  of  inland  mountains,  and 


THE  SEA  FOGS 


PI  ID 


had  awakened  in  a  bay  upon 
the  coast.  I  had  seen  these  in- 
undations from  below;  at  Cal- 
istoga  I  had  risen  and  gone 
abroad  in  the  early  morning, 
coughing  and  sneezing,  under 
fathoms  on  fathoms  of  gray  sea 
vapour,  like  a  cloudy  sky  — 
a  dull  sight  for  the  artist,  and 
a  painful  experience  for  the  in- 
valid. But  to  sit  aloft  one's  self 
in  the  pure  air  and  under  the 
unclouded  dome  of  heaven,  and 
thus  look  down  on  the  sub- 
mergence of  the  valley,  was 
strangely  different  and  even  de- 
Dl  ID 


ll  THE  SEA  FOGS 


lightful  to  the  eyes.  Faraway 
were  hilltops  like  little  islands. 
Nearer,  a  smoky  surf  beat  about 
the  foot  of  precipices  and 
poured  into  all  the  coves  of 
these  rough  mountains.  The 
colour  of  that  fog  ocean  was  a 
thing  never  to  be  forgotten. 
For  an  instant,  among  the  Heb- 
rides and  just  about  sundown, 
I  have  seen  something  like  it 
on  the  sea  itself.  But  the  white 
was  not  so  opaline;  nor  was 
there,  what  surprisingly  in- 
creased the  effed:,  that  breath- 
less, crystal  stillness  over  all. 
Pi  ID 


THE  SEA  FOGS 


Even  in  its  gentlest  moods  the 
salt  sea  travails,  moaning  among 
the  weeds  or  lisping  on  the 
sand;  but  that  vast  fog  ocean 
lay  in  a  trance  of  silence,  nor 
did  the  sweet  air  of  the  morn- 
ing tremble  with  a  sound. 
As  I  continued  to  sit  upon  the 
dump,  I  began  to  observe  that 
this  sea  was  not  so  level  as  at 
first  sight  it  appeared  to  be. 
Away  in  the  extreme  south,  a 
little  hill  of  fog  arose  against 
the  sky  above  the  general  sur- 
face, and  as  it  had  already 
caught  the  sun,  it  shone  on  the 

PI  ID 


gi  no 

THE  SEA  FOGS  |(] 


horizon  like  the  topsails  of 
some  giant  ship.  There  were 
huge  waves,  stationary,  as  it 
seemed,  like  waves  in  a  frozen 
sea ;  and  yet,  as  I  looked  again, 
I  was  not  sure  but  they  were 
moving  after  all,  with  a  slow 
and  august  advance.  And  while 
I  was  yet  doubting,  a  promon- 
tory of  the  hills  some  four  or 
five  miles  away,  conspicuous 
by  a  bouquet  of  tall  pines,  was 
in  a  single  instant  overtaken 
and  swallowed  up.  It  reap- 
peared in  a  little,  with  its  pines, 
but  this  time  as  an  islet,  and 
m  in 


° THE SEA FOGS 


only  to  be  swallowed  up  once 
more  and  then  for  good.  This 
set  me  looking  nearer,  and  I 
saw  that  in  every  cove  along 
the  line  of  mountains  the  fog 
was  being  piled  in  higher  and 
higher,  as  though  by  some  wind 
that  was  inaudible  to  me.  I 
could  trace  its  progress,  one 
pine  tree  first  growing  hazy 
and  then  disappearing  after 
another ;  although  sometimes 
there  was  none  of  this  forerun- 
ning haze,  but  the  whole 
opaque  white  ocean  gave  a  start 
and  swallowed  a  piece  of  moun- 
ni  ID 


I THE  SEA  FOGS  ° 


PI  ID 


tain  at  a  gulp.  It  was  to  flee 
these  poisonous  fogs  that  I  had 
left  the  seaboard,  and  climbed 
so  high  among  the  mountains. 
And  now,  behold,  here  came 
the  fog  to  besiege  me  in  my 
chosen  altitudes,  and  yet  came 
so  beautifully  that  my  first 
thought  was  of  welcome. 
The  sun  had  now  gotten  much 
higher,  and  through  all  the 
gaps  of  the  hills  it  cast  long 
bars  of  gold  across  that  white 
ocean.  An  eagle,  or  some  other 
very  great  bird  of  the  moun- 
tain, came  wheeling  over  the 
D»  ID 

10 


°  THE  SEA  FOGS 


PI  »g 


nearer  pinetops,  and  hung, 
poised  and  something  sideways, 
as  if  to  look  abroad  on  that  un- 
wonted desolation,  spying,  per- 
haps with  terror,  for  the  eyries 
of  her  comrades.  Then,  with 
a  long  cry,  she  disappeared 
again  toward  Lake  County  and 
the  clearer  air.  At  length  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  the  flood 
were  beginning  to  subside. 
The  old  landmarks,  by  whose 
disappearance  I  had  measured 
its  advance,  here  a  crag,  there 
a  brave  pine  tree,  now  began, 
in  the  inverse  order,  to  make 
PI  ID 

1 1 


ll  THE  SEA  FOGS° 


Pi  ID 


their  reappearance  into  day- 
light. I  judged  all  danger  of 
the  fog  was  over.  This  was 
not  Noah's  flood ;  it  was  but  a 
morning  spring,  and  would  now 
drift  out  seaward  whence  it 
came.  So,  mightily  relieved, 
and  a  good  deal  exhilarated  by 
the  sight,  I  went  into  the  house 
to  light  the  fire. 
I  suppose  it  was  nearly  seven 
when  I  once  more  mounted  the 
platform  to  look  abroad.  The 
fog  ocean  had  swelled  up  enor- 
mously since  last  I  saw  it ;  and 
a  few  hundred  feet  below  me, 

Pi  ID 

12 


ll  THE  SEA  FOGS  || 


in  the  deep  gap  where  the 
Toll  House  stands  and  the 
road  runs  through  into  Lake 
County,  it  had  already  topped 
the  slope,  and  was  pouring  over 
and  down  the  other  side  like 
driving  smoke.  The  wind  had 
climbed  along  with  it;  and 
though  I  was  still  in  calm  air, 
I  could  see  the  trees  tossing 
below  me,  and  their  long,  stri- 
dent sighing  mounted  to  me 
where  I  stood. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  fog 
had  surmounted  all  the  ridge 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  gap, 


13 


Hi  THE  SEA  FOGS° 


ni  m 


though  a  shoulder  of  the  moun- 
tain still  warded  it  out  of  our 
canyon.  Napa  Valley  and  its 
bounding  hills  were  now  utterly 
blotted  out.  The  fog,  sunny 
white  in  the  sunshine,  was  pour- 
ing over  into  Lake  County  in 
a  huge,  ragged  cataradt,  tossing 
treetops  appearing  and  disap- 
pearing in  the  spray.  The  air 
struck  with  a  little  chill,  and  set 
me  coughing.  It  smelt  strong 
of  the  fog,  like  the  smell  of 
a  washing-house,  but  with  a 
shrewd  tang  of  the  sea-salt. 
Had  it  not  been  for  two 
Dl  in 

«4 


THE  SEA  FOGS 


in 


things — the  sheltering  spur 
which  answered  as  a  dyke,  and 
the  great  valley  on  the  other 
side  which  rapidly  engulfed 
whatever  mounted — our  own 
little  platform  in  the  canyon 
must  have  been  already  buried 
a  hundred  feet  in  salt  and  poi- 
sonous air.  As  it  was,  the  in- 
terest of  the  scene  entirely 
occupied  our  minds.  We  were 
set  just  out  of  the  wind,  and 
but  just  above  the  fog;  we 
could  listen  to  the  voice  of  the 
one  as  to  music  on  the  stage; 
we  could  plunge  our  eyes  down 
ni  Elba 

'5 


"THE  SEA  FOGS  iff 


into  the  other,  as  into  some 
flowing  stream  from  over  the 
parapet  of  a  bridge;  thus  we 
looked  on  upon  a  strange,  im- 
petuous, silent,  shifting  exhibi- 
tion of  the  powers  of  nature, 
and  saw  the  familiar  landscape 
changing  from  moment  to  mo- 
ment like  figures  in  a  dream. 
The  imagination  loves  to  trifle 
with  what  is  not.  Had  this 
been  indeed  the  deluge,!  should 
have  felt  more  strongly,  but  the 
emotion  would  have  been  simi- 
lar in  kind.  I  played  with  the 
idea,  as  the  child  flees  in  de- 
Dl  ID 

16 


" THE  SEA  FOGS 


PI  =3D 


lighted  terror  from  the  creations 
of  his  fancy.  The  look  of  the 
thing  helped  me.  And  when 
at  last  I  began  to  flee  up  the 
mountain,  it  was  indeed  partly 
to  escape  from  the  raw  air  that 
kept  me  coughing,  but  it  was 
also  part  in  play. 
As  I  ascended  the  mountainside, 
I  came  once  more  to  overlook 
the  upper  surface  of  the  fog; 
but  it  wore  a  different  appear- 
ance from  what  I  had  beheld 
at  daybreak.  For,  first,  the  sun 
now  fell  on  it  from  high  over- 
head, and  its  surface  shone  and 

PI  ID 

17 


Si  THE  SEA  FOGS 

HI 


undulated  like  a  great  nor'land 
moor  country,  sheeted  with 
untrodden  morning  snow.  And, 
next,  the  new  level  must  have 
been  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hun- 
dred feet  higher  than  the  old, 
so  that  only  five  or  six  points 
of  all  the  broken  country  be- 
low me  still  stood  out.  Napa 
Valley  was  now  one  with  So- 
noma on  the  west.  On  the 
hither  side,  only  a  thin  scattered 
fringe  of  bluffs  was  unsub- 
merged;  and  through  all  the 
gaps  the  fog  was  pouring  over, 
like  an  ocean,  into  the  blue 

zzba 
if 


THE  SEA  FOGS 

PI 


clear  sunny  country  on  the 
east.  There  it  was  soon  lost; 
for  it  fell  instantly  into  the 
bottom  of  the  valleys,  follow- 
ing the  watershed;  and  the 
hilltops  in  that  quarter  were 
still  clear  cut  upon  the  eastern 
sky. 

Through  the  Toll  House  gap 
and  over  the  near  ridges  on  the 
other  side,  the  deluge  was  im- 
mense. A  spray  of  thin  vapour 
was  thrown  high  above  it,  ris- 
ing and  falling,  and  blown  into 
fantastic  shapes.  The  speed  of 
its  course  was  like  a  mountain 
Pi 

'9 


i  THE  SEA  FOGS  10 

PI  in 


torrent.  Here  and  there  a  few 
treetops  were  discovered  and 
then  whelmed  again;  and  for 
one  second,  the  bough  of  a 
dead  pine  beckoned  out  of  the 
spray  like  the  arm  of  a  drown- 
ing man.  But  still  the  imagi- 
nation was  dissatisfied,  still  the 
ear  waited  for  something  more. 
Had  this  indeed  been  water  ( as 
it  seemed  so,  to  the  eye),  with 
what  a  plunge  of  reverberating 
thunder  would  it  have  rolled 
upon  its  course,  disembowel- 
ling mountains  and  deracinating 
pines!  And  yet  water  it  was, 


DC 


20 


THE SEA FOGS 


PI  =UD 


and  sea-water  at  that  —  true 
Pacific  billows,  only  somewhat 
rarefied,  rolling  in  mid-air 
among  the  hilltops. 
I  climbed  still  higher,  among 
the  red  rattling  gravel  and  dwarf 
underwood  of  Mount  Saint 
Helena,  until  I  could  look  right 
down  upon  Silverado,  and  ad- 
mire the  favoured  nook  in 
which  it  lay.  The  sunny  plain 
of  fog  was  several  hundred  feet 
higher  ;  behind  the  protecting 
spur  a  gigantic  accumulation 
of  cottony  vapour  threatened, 
with  every  second,  to  blow  over 


21 


°  THE  SEA  FOGS  " 


ni  in 


and  submerge  our  homestead; 
but  the  vortex  setting  past  the 
Toll  House  was  too  strong; 
and  there  lay  our  little  plat- 
form, in  the  arms  of  the  deluge, 
but  still  enjoying  its  unbroken 
sunshine.  About  eleven,  how- 
ever, thin  spray  came  flying 
over  the  friendly  buttress,  and 
I  began  to  think  the  fog  had 
hunted  out  its  Jonah  after  all. 
But  it  was  the  last  effort.  The 
wind  veered  while  we  were  at 
dinner,  and  began  to  blow 
squally  from  the  mountain 
summit;  and  by  half-past  one, 
Pi 

22 


THE  SEA  FOGS  " 


PI  =3D 


all  that  world  of  sea  fogs  was 
utterly  routed  and  flying  here 
and  there  into  the  south  in 
little  rags  of  cloud.  And  instead 
of  a  lone  sea-beach,  we  found 
ourselves  once  more  inhabiting 
a  high  mountainside,  with  the 
clear  green  country  far  below 
us,  and  the  light  smoke  of 
Calistoga  blowing  in  the  air. 
This  was  the  great  Russian 
campaign  for  that  season.  Now 
and  then,  in  the  early  morning, 
a  little  white  lakelet  of  fog 
would  be  seen  far  down  in  Napa 
Valley;  but  the  heights  were 


23 


THE  SEA  FOGS 


not  again  assailed,  nor  was  the 
surrounding  world  again  shut 
off  from  Silverado. 


pi  ID 

24 


en  in 

HERE  ENDS  N.9  ONE  THE  WESTERN 
CLASSICS  BEING  THE  SEA  FOGS  BY 
ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON  WITH 
AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  THOMAS 
RUTHERFORD  BACON  fif  A  PHOTO- 
GRAVURE FRONTISPIECE  AFTER  A 
PAINTING  BY  ALBERTINE  RANDALL 
WHEELAN  OF  THIS  FIRST  EDITION 
ONE  THOUSAND  COPIES  HAVE  BEEN 
ISSUED  PRINTED  UPON  FABRIANO 
HANDMADE  PAPER  THE  TYPOG- 
RAPHY DESIGNED  BY  J.  H.  NASH 
PUBLISHED  BY  PAUL  ELDER  AND 
COMPANY  &  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK 
FOR  THEM  AT  THE  TOMOYE  PRESS 
IN  THE  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK  MCMVII 

PI  ID 


